


48 Hours

by Help__Obsessed_Artist



Category: Batman (Comics), Cyborg (DCU Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Martian Manhunter (Comics), Superman (Comics), The Flash (Comics), Wonder Woman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Heavy Angst, Kidnapping, Other, Peril, Protective Bruce Wayne, The Justice League Fights Batman's Villians, The Justice League Meets Robin, Worry, Young Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Help__Obsessed_Artist/pseuds/Help__Obsessed_Artist
Summary: The recently-formed Justice League still doesn't know Batman's identity, until he comes to them for help.Dick Grayson has been kidnapped, and time is running out to find him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Tumblr post I saw about Bruce being super freaked when Dick gets kidnapped for the first time. Its going to be emotional.  
> (also I wanted an excuse for the JL to face Batman's villains, sue me)

Barry sat slouched at the Justice League conference table, tapping his fingers at light speed. Hal shot him a sour look from his left and he sighed, folding his arms over his chest. Diana was across from them, sitting on the table with her legs dangling, sharpening her sword with a slow, rhythmic ‘sssk’ every couple of moments that echoed through the otherwise quiet Watchtower. 

“Maybe he’s just not coming.” Hal said finally. Clark frowned. 

“He would’ve told us if he was going to miss the meeting.” 

“No he wouldn’t’ve,” Hal scoffed, “No one’s even heard from the guy in weeks. He’s the only one without powers right? Hate to say it, but maybe Spooky bit the dust.” 

“There’s nothing on Gotham news about Batman dying.” Victor chimed, pausing for a moment to mentally search the web. “He was spotted last night.” 

“Should we begin the meeting without him?” J’onn asked patiently and Clark shook his head.

“No, we should wait.” 

“He’s not showing up! We can’t exactly call the guy; none of us knows who he is!” Hal groaned, his lantern ring glowing for a moment to construct a sign above his head that read ‘he doesn’t trust us’. 

“Clark,” Barry whined, rubbing his eyes, “We’ve been waiting for over an hour. There’s nothing big to report, let’s just call it-” 

Clark held up his hand, turning toward the door. Three seconds later, it opened with a whoosh and the flap of a black cape. Batman entered without a word, shoulders tight and jaw set. Clark stood. 

“Batman, would you care to tell us why you’re so late?” 

Batman didn’t respond, white lenses flicking to each member of the league individually. He closed them after a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose and  _ sighing _ , louder than any member had heard (even Hal). 

Clark blinked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“Your heart rate... What’s wrong?” The rest of the league looked from Clark to Batman in confusion, all attention now focused on their exchange. 

Batman didn’t speak for several moments, allowing everyone to notice the tired lines in his face, the taught, almost stiff posture, and the small tremors in his hands. Diana stood next, and the rest followed suit cautiously. Batman seemed to compose himself, hand returning to his side with another breath. 

“My son is missing.” 

Silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Hal held up his hands, “Your  _ what _ ?” 

Batman blinked at him. “My  _ son _ is missing. He was kidnapped. I need help to find him.” 

Everyone exchanged shocked looks, unsure what to say. 

“I would not be asking for your help if I could find him,” He continued. “He’s been missing for a day now.” 

“How… I mean, where did you last see him?” Barry asked. He was the one who actually worked in a police station, and knew the questions to ask. 

“Are we just going to  _ ignore _ the huge reveal that Spooky is responsible for a  _ child? _ ” Hal exclaimed, gaping at Barry, who shot him a look. 

“ _ Hal. _ ” He hissed, but Batman didn’t seem fazed. 

“I was with him yesterday afternoon at the Gotham Knights football game. I lost track of him in the crowd. No one saw anything.” 

Barry swallowed at the  _ tiny _ tremor in Batman’s voice. He actually sounded  _ scared _ (as scared as Batman could sound anyway). 

“Will you help me?” 

Clark gaped at the question, “Of  _ course  _ we’ll help.” 

“No question.” Barry chimed. 

Batman seemed to relax slightly, before turning back toward the Watchtower teleporter, the rest of them following. “The surveillance footage of the stadium is at the Batcave. I will beam us there.” He walked silently to the controls as the rest of the League filed onto the platform. “Try not to slip. The cave floor is wet.” He grunted quietly, hitting the go button. 

The team felt the familiar warmth of teleporting, the bright lights suddenly replaced by a cold damp place. Barry blinked, eyes adjusting and Hal’s suit lit up automatically, illuminating the otherwise dark area. 

The cave was huge, at least three stories high, the walls lined with walking platforms. There were countless glass cases displaying odd objects, the most notable being several question mark trophies, a red and black mallet, and a six foot tall Joker card hanging on the wall. A good part of the cave was taken up by a 30 foot Tyrannosaurus Rex statue, a tricked out car, a small plane and a computer the size of a movie theater screen on the opposite side of the cave. 

Hal whistled, floating up to examine the teeth of the T-Rex while the rest of the team followed Batman to his computer. Sixteen different displays were on the screen, an overlay analyzing every one, searching every passing face to match the smiling dark-haired boy to the right of the displays. Victor gaped, walking over to examine the seven foot computer tower. Batman sat down and Barry jumped, just having noticed another figure standing by the screen. 

“I see you brought guests, sir.” The man, elderly and dressed in a pressed, three piece suit, bowed to them. “Alfred Pennyworth, at your service. Would anyone care for some tea?” 

“Thank you Alfred, but there’s no time.” Batman said shortly, turning in his chair to stand before the league again. “I didn’t plan on revealing my identity so early after forming the league, but considering the current situation, none of that matters.” 

Batman pulled off his cowl, black hair falling into blue eyes. The rest of them could now see the dark circles under his eyes, the worried lines of his face, and a healing bruise on his cheekbone. Barry’s mouth dropped. 

“ _ Bruce Wayne? _ Wait, Batman is Bruce Wayne?!” Hal flew to hover beside him. 

“Who the hell is Bruce Wayne?” He whispered and Barry elbowed him in the ribs. 

“My son Dick Grayson is missing. I need to find him. He’s only been under my care for about six months, but I’m afraid whomever kidnapped him did so because of who I am.” 

“Have they called in a ransom?” Clark asked and Bruce shook his head. 

“Have you told the police?” Barry tried, and Bruce shook his head again. “They’re trained to find kids in these situations.” He continued and Bruce’s posture seemed to stiffen further. 

“The reason I dawned the cape was because the police in this city are corrupt. They can and  _ will _ be bought by anyone willing to pay. If they got wind that a billionaire's son was missing, it’s likely some of them can be coerced into helping the kidnappers in exchange for some percentage of whatever they try and get from me.” He said hotly. 

“That’s sick…” Barry whispered and Diana nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“One who kidnaps a child is the least honorable of thieves. They shall receive no mercy.” 

“Nope. Where do we start?” Hal nodded at the screens, “That show anything?” 

Bruce turned back to the display. “Unfortunately, no. They knew all the blind spots of the cameras.” He clicked the replay button, pointing to one of the playbacks that showed a small boy looking around, only to be pulled back off screen by two hands. The video stopped. Bruce looked grave turning back to them, but his voice was level. “That was the last sighting of him.” 

Barry stroked his chin, “Kidnappers who grab in highly crowded places rarely do so without a plan, or a getaway. It’s likely it was a team of people, at least one to grab the kid, and the other to drive the getaway car.” 

“The streets didn’t show any cars pulling away at that time,” Victor said, having connected himself to the Batcomputer tower. “They had to go out somewhere else.” 

“Maybe a sewer?” Hal suggested. 

“If they did that, It’d take them anywhere in the city… That's a 300 square mile radius.” Clark sighed. Barry was quiet for a moment before his skin crackled with kinetic energy and he disappeared for one second, reappearing with a large blueprint. He laid it out on a nearby table soundlessly, and the rest of the team gathered around. 

“There are three sewer entrances in the entirety of the stadium, but considering where they abducted Dick, its likely they used this one.” He pointed to a middle one by the food stands. 

“They had to have been using disguises,” Hal said, “No way security doesn’t notice some guy taking a kid down a manhole.” 

“The workers didn’t report anything suspicious.” Bruce grunted. 

“They could’ve lied,” Hal shrugged. 

“One might find it hard to lie after his fingers have been broken, sir.” Alfred said without missing a beat and Hal swallowed. 

“Do you… normally break civilian’s fingers when interrogating them…?” The Lantern asked slowly and Bruce glanced at him. 

“When it’s regarding my  _ son _ .” 

“The middle sewer entrance has three exits. If they used any of the first ones, that could dump them on Kings Street, Main, or Prescott Ave.” Barry continued. “Vic, can you check the footage at those entrances?” 

Cyborg closed his eyes, pulling up security footage from the previous day in place of the stadium footage. Barry squinted. 

“There,” He pointed to the Prescott Ave. playback, “That exit is under construction.” 

“Its fake,” Bruce grunted. “I checked. That area was not due for construction. Unfortunately, no one comes out.” 

“It is possible something spooked them and caused them to abandon their original escape.” J’onn stated and Diana nodded. “Unfortunately, that conclusion does not get us any closer to where they are now.” 

“I can go through all the security footage in the city within the hour he was taken, but that may take an hour or two…” Victor sat down in the chair as Clark turned to the rest of the team. 

“Then we do it on foot. Start at the three sewer entrances and spread out. Bruce and I will take the Prescott route, Flash, scan the entire sewer system then meet back with Lantern at Main. J’onn and Diana, take Kings Street.” 

“Wouldn’t it be faster if you used your super hearing to listen for signs of distress?” Hal suggested and Bruce sighed. 

“Not in Gotham. Especially not at night.” He grunted. 

“... Why do you live here again?” 

Bruce ignored him, “It’s late enough that some of my rogues will be causing havoc as well. Take caution if you do encounter one.” 

“Uh… What exactly should we look out for?” 

Bruce blinked at them. “Toxic gas, puzzle games, and  _ clowns _ .” 


	2. Caged Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick finds himself tied up in a basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note:  
> This chapter is really short. Also,   
> I'm so sorry.

Dick’s eyes opened slowly and he blinked, eyes trying to adjust in the dark room. It smelled musty, like mold and leaky pipes and he grimaced. His head pounded, tempting him to whine in complaint, but the subtle tug on his wrists caught his attention. Tight ropes held his hands together behind his back where he lay, the itchy thing scratching painfully at his skin when he tried to wiggle them. 

His eyes finally adjusted and the groggy confusion in his head cleared up. He was supposed to be at a football game with Bruce. Dick’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

The dark basement was  _ definitely  _ not the game. 

Dick sat up, the pounding in his head and growing fear at being lost combining to make him nauseous. He remembered telling Bruce he was going to the bathroom. The man had offered to go with him, but Dick had insisted he’d only be a second. He had been on his way back, trying to figure out where they were seated when someone big grabbed him from behind. They smelled like cigarettes and put something that smelled sickeningly sweet to his face, muffling his cries as they dragged him back into another room. 

Then, he woke up. 

His chest tightened  _ horribly _ when the realization hit him. 

He wasn’t lost. He had been kidnapped. 

Dick looked around wildly, trying to figure out where he was. There were no windows; only an old space heater by the boiler, and a staircase leading to a door. 

Dick screwed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and willing himself to breathe evenly. He was  _ Robin _ . He had faced countless villains beside Batman; he could handle this. 

After composing himself of his rising panic, Dick wiggled his arms, shifting his posture so he could move his tied arms under his legs. He kicked his feet over them, thanking his stars that he was abnormally flexible. When his arms were successfully at his front as opposed to behind his back, he stood, creeping silently up the concrete stairs. He pressed his right ear hard against the wooden door. 

Nothing. No movement. 

Dick looked down. There was light coming out from the crack under the door and he worried his bottom lip. There was probably someone standing guard, even though he couldn’t hear them, and even though he had trained for four months, Dick still wasn’t the best at taking down people larger than him. As of now, he relied on Batarangs, aerial attacks, and Bruce. 

None of which he had now. 

Did Bruce know he was missing? Was he looking for him? Maybe he had called the police; Dick still wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious. He felt hungry, so it must have been a while… 

_ Was _ Bruce looking for him? 

The man was still hesitant around him. If Dick knew anything more than acrobatics, it was reading body language. Bruce seemed to still be getting used to the fact that Dick lived in the mansion with him; often jumping in surprise when the small boy ran into a hug or crawled into his bed at night. He didn’t seem to  _ like _ physical contact that much, but Dick  _ craved _ it and couldn’t help himself. His parents had always been so physically affectionate and the boy found it hard to keep away from his adopted father. 

His heart clenched at a small question his brain fabricated suddenly. 

_ Would _ Bruce look for him? 

Dick sniffed to himself, shaking his head. He had to focus, and find a way out. He wandered back down the stairs, eyes searching for another means of escape. 

A small air vent was on the ceiling near the boiler. Dick glanced at the pipes running along ceiling close to it, then down to the space heater on the floor. 

That might work. 

Dick scampered over to the heater, crawling on top and wobbling when the metal groaned under his weight. He looked up. 

The pipes were a little far, but just close enough that if he jumped right, he could catch the lowest one. 

He breathed slowly, reading his tied hands and leaping up at an angle. 

His hands caught the metal and he held tightly, fingers clamping to make up for the swinging of his lower body and the dust on the pipe. 

He let out a shuddering breath, planning his next swing and trying to ignore the pain in his wrists. He could do this. 

Dick bit his lip, straightening his legs and swinging them in a familiar, almost natural way. When he had enough momentum, Dick let go of the pipe, his body flying forward and allowing him to latch onto the next pipe. This one was smaller, shifting dangerously with his swaying body, but he was close enough to the vent now. 

Dick panted, suddenly at a loss. How could he get the vent open without making a ruckus? 

Kicking it in would surely bring someone into the room before the hatch came off, and then he would be right back where he started. 

Perhaps, if he swung repeatedly, Dick could kick at the side of the metal hatch and slowly loosen the screws. Maybe then, when the metal fell, Dick could be in the walls before his kidnappers could get to him. 

It was worth the shot. 

Dick’s body moved carefully, gathering momentum with each swing and he kicked his right foot up, the toe of his shoe catching the metal for a moment. 

Dick huffed in frustration when his legs swung back. He could only reach the metal for half a second, but it was his only option. He kicked his leg up again, shoe clipping the metal and the hatch shifted. 

He tried again. 

Dick swung up repeatedly, kicking the side of the hatch. He was beginning to sweat and his fingers were  _ aching _ but the boy gritted his teeth, kicking up in annoyance. 

This wasn’t getting him anywhere. 

His dark hair was starting to stick to his forehead and Dick paused, allowing his body to sway to a stop while he caught his breath. Tears stung his eyes and he sniffed, throwing his head back. It felt like his hands were bleeding now; they weren’t properly wrapped, and though he had been trained to hold onto bars for a long time, his grip was starting to quiver. 

It  _ hurt _ ...

Dick gritted his teeth, steeling himself against his uneven breathing and the pain in his arms. He swung his legs back again, eyes falling back onto the vent and he kicked his leg up. 

The pipe gave and Dick gasped. 

He fell in slow motion, watching the pipes and his escape fall away before his vision exploded with stars. 

He cried out soundlessly, the air forced out of his lungs when his back and head hit the concrete with a  _ smack _ . 

His head lolled to the side and he gasped, coughing and rolling over. His spine  _ screamed _ in agony and he clenched his teeth to stop himself from doing the same. The room spun around him sickeningly, and he squeezed his eyes shut. 

It was no use. He couldn’t get that vent open… 

What a stupid idea…

Dick’s eyes watered. 

His wrists and hands ached, his ribs stung with every breath and the pain in his head made him want to vomit. 

It was stupid to think he could escape on his own. That he was skilled enough to get out. There was no way he could have pulled it off anyway. 

He tried and  _ fell _ , just like his parents. 

Dick let out a sob, his body shaking from the flowering pain and the spinning…  _ Everything hurt _ . 

And he just wanted to go  _ home _ . 


End file.
